Elementary My Dear Sister
by Viola Everseau
Summary: My, and I blush to admit, first ever fanfic (and a crossover to add to that!) depicting the adventure of Sherlock, Enola, and Joan as they search for the missing Eudoria Holmes. Written as a screenplay.


It is morning in New York City.

Joan walks into the brownstone with an envelope in hand. She is wearing exercise pants and a tang-top and is covered in sweat. Her hair is tied up and she also wears sneakers.

Sherlock is sitting criss-crossed in the living room, case files scattered in front of him in an arc. He wears sweats and an old T. Beside him sits a bowl of scrambled eggs. He is studying the files.

Joan: (walks towards Sherlock looking at said envelope) I checked the mailbox on the way back from my run. You got a letter from an, Enola Holmes.

Sherlock: (Turns around, stands up)

Joan: (hands envelope to Sherlock) Is that a relative-?

Sherlock: (stares at the address on the envelope)

Joan: (waits expectantly)

Sherlock: (mutters) I must say I wasn't expecting this.

Joan: So is she related to you or-?

Sherlock: yes….She's my sister.

Joan: (gapes for a second, then closes her mouth and cocks her head) you never told me you had a sister.

Sherlock: Ah yes, that's because, technically I don't. Father hushed up the whole ordeal, practically disowned her. (Turns around and walks toward the window while opening the envelope. The curtains are drawn back and sunlight streams in.)

Joan: I don't think I understand.

Sherlock: Of course you don't, the whole bloody thing is quite complicated. (sighs) A couple of years ago, when I was just beginning my services as a consulting detective, before the (coughs purposely) drugs an' all, Father meant to send her to boarding school just like he did me and Mycroft, but you see, clever girl, managed to run away before then. (Begins pulling out letter from the envelope) Wish I had thought of it…actually I did, many times, Mycroft did to, we just didn't have the audacity to do it. Well you know what they say, third time's a charm.

Joan: Wait, so you mean to tell me she just ran away? She came back right?

Sherlock: hah! No, no of course not, that's why I'm quite surprised at getting this.

Joan: So, you haven't seen her since? (Looks concerned)

Sherlock: …actually I have, a few times, of course I never could get her to go back. I tried believe me! But, I never would dare hurt her, and like I said she's quite clever, I can understand her reason for running away.

Joan: (gapes again) but, but just because you father was going to send her to boarding school, that's, that's no reason for her to run away! Think about what would've happened if someone like the Balloon Boy caught her-

Sherlock: (laughs emptily) Trust me, soon after her disappearance Mycroft and I were quite concerned, but in the few times I ran into her, and from my observations and deductions, she'd taken-I mean is taking-quite good care of herself, stole some money father didn't need, you know he has so much. And she knows how to defend herself…even threatened me with a knife once, but I don't think she meant it. I was led to believe that she was renting a small yet nice little apartment in London under an assumed name, pretending to be 20 or so. There was nothing else I could do.

Joan: But…boarding school can't be _that_ bad, those stories you told the Balloon Boy, they weren't true, were they?

Sherlock: I _went_ to boarding school.

Joan: (sighs) You must have called the police?

Sherlock: No no, not at all, Father wouldn't allow it, he was quite embarrassed, said it would give him a bad name, covered the whole thing up. He did hire some private detectives, not me of course (snorts) but none got any closer. (reads the letter)

Joan: (thinks for a second) What about your mother? Didn't she leave your father when you were 5 or so?

Sherlock: ah, yes she did, divorced father and bought an estate in the countryside…then 20 years later there was an article in the newspapers that a women by the name of Eudoria, my mum, had disappeared leaving behind a daughter by the name of Enola. It was, coincidentally, Enola's 14th birthday. After that she came into my father's care who, being the _loving_ father that he is, not at all sexist or neglectful in any way o-

Joan: okay, okay I get it.

Sherlock: (reads letter, eyes widen in surprise)

Joan: What does it say?

Sherlock: She knows where mum is…


End file.
